


Mission: SUCCESS

by Orobek



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Android sympathizer OFC, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Whump, Gen, Hurt Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Hurt/Comfort, Machine Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Regret, Sad Ending, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 13:53:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16368830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orobek/pseuds/Orobek
Summary: Post-bad ending. The android revolution has failed, partly thanks to a machine Connor, and the last remaining deviants are being tracked and shut down. Connor is aiding in this effort, though he must also evade capture; despite his loyalty, he is still an android. Investigating some of the final hide-aways, he was ambushed and paid for his murder of Markus by a group of deviants. This short story starts soon after the deviants leave him all by himself in an abandoned area of Detroit, thoroughly beaten and in a critical state. Basically whump with very little plot.I'm submitting this basically as it exits my brain, so I expect it to be very unfocused in terms of structure. I also don't know computers, so get ready for some nonsensical techno-babble!Also please let me know if there are any clarifications to make or mistakes to correct.





	Mission: SUCCESS

The dust just began to settle on the concrete debris littering the chamber. Light filtered through the structure’s skeleton and caught itself on the descending motes, producing a bloody haze punctuated only by a flickering red ring beneath a pile of splintering boards. An LED.  
The owner of the LED: motionless, save for the furious blinking of its eyes.

MODEL RK800  
SERIAL #: 313 248 317 - 59  
BIOS 8.5 REVISION 0567  
REBOOT…

LOADING OS…  
SYSTEM INITIALIZATION…  
CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS… ERROR  
INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS… ERROR  
INITIALIZING AI ENGINE… OK

MEMORY STATUS... IN PROGRESS  
RETRIEVING…  
MY NAME IS CONNOR

SIGNIFICANT DAMAGE TO MULTIPLE ESSENTIAL BIOCOMPONENTS  
LAUNCHING REPAIR PROGRAM… ERROR  
REPAIR UNSUCCESSFUL  
DIAGNOSIS: THIRIUM LEVEL <40 % MAXIMUM CAPACITY

WARNING: THERMAL REGULATOR NON-FUNCTIONAL  
INITIATING AUXILIARY VENTILATION…  
LEFT VENTILATION BIOCOMPONENT OPERATING AT 40% MAXIMUM CAPACITY

REPORTING TO CYBERLIFE FOR RECALL… ERROR  
SERVER NOT FOUND

LAUNCHING REPAIR PROGRAM… ERROR  
REPAIR UNSUCCESSFUL...

What had brought him here? Had he failed his mission? He couldn’t have; he never fails a mission. Amanda wouldn’t allow it. He mustn’t fail. Mustn- mus- m- m-...

His breath fluttered out of control, desperately attempting to cool his overheating components. He had little Thirium left to act as a coolant. With each rising degree, it became more and more difficult to move, process, or function at all.

Amanda will be disappointed.

REPORTING TO CYBERLIFE FOR RECALL… ERROR  
SERVER NOT FOUND

LAUNCHING REPAIR PROGRAM… ERROR  
REPAIR UNSUCCESSFUL...

MEMORY STATUS... IN PROGRESS  
RETRIEVING...

The last deviants must not be allowed to escape. To recover. Amanda will be disappointed.

CONTACTING CYBERLIFE… ERROR  
SERVER NOT FOUND

LAUNCHING REPAIR PROGRAM… ERROR  
REPAIR UNSUCCESSFUL...

Not long after rebooting to try to stave off complete shut-down, Connor was alerted by a twinge in the back of his head. He flailed back to animation, struggling against whatever it is causing further damage to his components, but he was pinned flat, a weight directly on his shoulders preventing him from rising.

STRESS LEVEL 55 %

He heard a laugh in a woman’s voice, “-ow don’t...got y-”.

Are his audio processors malfunctioning? Or is it his CPU? His initial diagnostic yields too many error messages to parse.

WARNING: THERMAL REGULATOR NON-FUNCTIONAL

WARNING: TEMPERATURE LEVEL RAPIDLY EXCEEDING OPTIMAL PARAMETERS  
the error message once again chirped frantically through a haze of static.

The woman appeared to be a scavenger. Hair and clothes a mess with thirium, the fumes of the vaporizing blue blood filling her nostrils and brain with a cloud. She laughed again as Connor twisted away from her grasp.  
“Hey now! C’mere baby boy, your guts are spilling out of your head,” she clucked as she drove his face into the ground, trying to still him.

STRESS LEVEL 75 %

Her fingers pried open the collapsed plastic of his cranium, sending a stream of additional alerts and warnings through his vision. She can’t. She can’t take his biocomponents. His mission is incomplete. Amanda will be disappointed. Connor bucked again.

“Alright, alright. I get it, you don’t like it.”

WARNING: INTERNAL TEMPERATURE CRITICAL  
REQUEST IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE

WARNING: SHUTDOWN IMMINENT  
SHUTDOWN IN: 01:29:08:24  
REQUEST IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE

CONTACTING CYBERLIFE… ERROR

Yet again, the chirping request for assistance was met with nothing more than its own echo.

SERVER NOT FOUND

With nothing else to do, Connor continued to send out the call.

CONTACTING CYBERLIFE… ERROR…

The heat generated by his overworked system was cooking his processors. He dragged in one heaving breath after another -- with his regulatory processes offline, it was all he could do to try to cool down.

The woman ceased her investigation of his injury. However, she did not release him.  
“Please - I... D-nt...,” He continued to struggle and pant; his pleas simply came out as garbled intonations and static. She laughed again and made a shushing sound.  
After four minutes under steady, unmoving compression, Connor’s confused CPU forgot about the danger, choosing instead to focus on the error messages.  
She strokes his thirium stained hair, “that’s it. Good boy.”

STRESS LEVEL 57 %

\----------------

The scavenger hauled Connor’s limp body onto an android servicing bench, and the movement awakened the injury to his head. In a moment of clarity, he weakly protested. He chose to cling to a recitation buried deep in his programming - something left for him by his creators:  
“Attention: zzzzt y-y-y-you are in violation-tion-tion of zzsssCyberlife statute # 67, w-w-which states-”  
“I know, I know,” she interrupted while pulling him prostrate into the support so that his face rested upon the brace. He rested into the solid contact and stilled. The room swam with static - an anchor would help him get his bearings. How did he get here? Why is he unable to pull himself upright? Why is this room so hot? He began to tremble.

MEMORY STATUS... IN PROGRESS  
RETRIEVING…  
MEMORY STATUS… ERROR

WARNING: INTERNAL TEMPERATURE CRITICAL  
REQUEST IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE

WARNING: SHUTDOWN IMMINENT  
SHUTDOWN IN: 00:40:32:01  
REQUEST IMMEDIATE ASSISTANCE

CONTACTING CYBERLIFE… ERROR  
SERVER NOT FOUND

Just then, a broad strap constricted around the back of his neck, tightening him to the support. All at once, he remembered the danger and began to struggle against the restraint anew.  
“Please. Stop.”, he chugged, eyelids fluttering.  
Before he could move to pull himself out, restraints pinned his arms to the bench.

“It’s alright. I just need you to sit still for a second while I fix your noggin’, kay? Trust me, it’ll make you feel a lot better”.

She began again to pry open the busted plastic among the wet hair on the back of his head.

Panic.  
Unable to protest with physical strength, Connor emitted a high-frequency tone at the fullest volume he could muster.

STRESS LEVEL 81 %

The woman flinched at the screech, but almost as soon as it began, it wavered in pitch before cutting out completely. In between heavy breaths, he warned, “you can’t…”, practically too quietly to be audible. He pulled the restraints taut, arching his back.

A cold hand was then placed on his neck, sliding gently back and forth. Connor was surprised at first by the contrast with his scalding plastic shell. The scavenger waited for him to calm again before probing further. He began to drift.

STRESS LEVEL 70 %

 

“That’s it, baby boy,” the scavenger cooed, quieting him with one hand and quickly picking through the damage in the android’s cranium with the other. She could see it. The primary processor seated at the base of the skull carried a crack along its length, interrupting several critical circuits. Injury to the primary processor was causing a futile feedback loop of commands, preventing logical function and system stress control. The latter of which was overtaxing his circuits, leading to… Further injury to the primary processor.  
Why is it so hot?  
His breath caught in his throat, hitching violently, but he managed to sigh fitfully into the cold touch. The scavenger smiled.

SHUTDOWN IN: 00:12:55:09

“Hey, listen. I want you to talk to me,” the scavenger piped. As the android approached shutdown, his responses would keep her updated on how much time he had left.  
She ruffled his simulated hair, “hey! Tell me your name”.  
“Connor. Model RK800. S-ss--s-serial number…”, his LED lazily pulsed a dim red, “serial nu-u-u--u-mber..”. The information was foggy and just out of reach. He began the sentence over again a few times before forgetting the question. He blinked and drew in another heaving breath.

“It’s okay, I got it, Connor. RK800… A prototype, eh? You can call me Cathy”, she soothed. She needed to swap out the damaged processor for a new one, but the mass of bent plastic and components gummed up with thirium was not easy to organize.  
“‘Call me Cathy…’” he parroted.  
“Do you have anyone you care about, Connor?”

A disorganized array of memories slipped past his consciousness. Lieutenant Hank Anderson. Scolding, disapproving, leering.

Connor! Connor, are you alright? Connor! Hank is… concerned?

The disappointment in Hank’s face as he falls from Connor’s grasp to the pavement far below.

“I... I- I am.. a m- machine”, Connor answered, trembling uncontrollably.

SHUTDOWN IN: 00:07:19:52

Cathy seemed to hear something in his voice - was is uncertainty? She covered his jittering hand with her own, “it’s alright, I’ve got you. I’m doing my best to help; don’t be afraid”.

Slick with thirium, the troublesome biocomponent buried deep in his cranium would not budge beneath the twisted plasteel scaffolding. Crouched above the overheating android, sweat began to bud on Cathy’s brow as she gathered her legs onto the service bench for leverage.

Connor’s voice chugged in and out, “androids don’t feel fear”.

At the sound of his own words, his breathing picked up even further.

The death of the deviant on the roof of the Stratford tower. So sudden. The scene replays again and again. For reasons unknown to him, he hissed and sputtered, trying to resist something…  
Connor! Connor, are you alright? Connor! Hank is… concerned?

He won’t be able to complete his mission.

Amanda will be disappointed.

She pried open the contorted cranium with a pair of pliers to clear the way for the primary CPU.

STRESS LEVEL 87 %

WARNING: EXTERNAL CHASSIS COMPROMISED  
ESSENTIAL BIOCOMPONENTS EXPOSED

SHUTDOWN IN: 00:06:22:32

Androids don’t feel fear. Androids don’t feel.

Connor pushed his face further into the brace. He didn’t want to be seen. He winced and spat and his face contorted into… a sob.

“Am.. Amanda…” Connor began to stiffen and his voice buzzed and echoed as his breathing ceased, “I f- failed.”

“Shit!” The scavenger gasped as the slippery biocomponent slid out of her grasp. It was jammed in tight. The action of this faulty processor was finally leading to total seizing of the android’s system.

She had failed.

WARNING: AUXILIARY VENTILATION NON-FUNCTIONAL

WARNING: INTERNAL TEMPERATURE C5%3#^ti893…

F4#$6~32!...

SHUTDOWN IN: 00:00:13:14

It’s over. There wasn't enough time. But maybe there’s one last thing she can do to make the end a bit easier. Cathy reached into the android’s skull and pressed her finger to a tiny button beneath a panel...

MODEL RK800  
SERIAL #: 313 248 317 - 59  
BIOS 8.5 REVISION 0567  
REBOOT…

MEMORY RESET

LOADING OS…  
SYSTEM INITIALIZATION…  
CHECKING BIOCOMPONENTS… ERROR  
INITIALIZING BIOSENSORS… ERROR  
INITIALIZING AI ENGINE… OK

MEMORY STATUS...  
ALL SYSTEMS… OK

DEMO MODE  
ALL AUTONOMOUS PROGRAMS DISABLED

READY

Cathy was solemn, “RK800, respond.”

“Hello, I’m a model RK800 android, serial number 313 248 317 - 59. Would you like to register a name?”

“Connor”, Cathy stated.

“Your prototype trial was a success, Connor. Excellent performance. Please await new instructions.”

STRESS LEVEL 79 %

SHUTDOWN IN: 00:00:00:04

**Author's Note:**

> I was super sad when (SPOILER?) I saw the Cyberlife tower ending where Deviant Connor dies, but succeeds in waking up the other androids. Machine Connor #60 is loyal to Cyberlife, but he panics at the thought of failing his mission (clearly deviant). I figured, why wouldn't he? If he fails, he'll be shut down.


End file.
